


I Do?

by SKayLanphear



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Both figuratively and literally, Drama, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Reveal, Ridiculous, Romance, Some Humor, Wedding, adrienette - Freeform, funny angst, in this case, is that a thing?, these two need to get their acts together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKayLanphear/pseuds/SKayLanphear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette and Adrien are getting married! Unfortunately, Adrien is bothered by the fact that he didn't invite Ladybug, while Marinette gets cold feet every time Chat Noir flits through her head. A story of mixed up love, rash mistakes, and two oblivious superheroes who should have figured things out a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doubts

"What do you think, Tikki?" Marinette asked, turning to the side as she looked herself up and down in her full-length mirror. She patted some wrinkles out of her dress, but supposed the overall look was up to par. It was her dream dress, wasn't it? She'd created it, after all, so it couldn't possibly be anything less than satisfactory. And it wasn't as though she didn't have the skills—her designs were backed by the Agreste name and had more than been able to stand up to the hype. She had a name for _herself_ too, so certainly her wedding dress was nothing less than perfect.

"I think you look very beautiful, Marinette," Tikki assured, flitting up beside her head. Taking a deep breath, Marinette reached up and pulled her hair against the back of her head, as if to mimic an updo. Ultimately, the effect wasn't what she was hoping for. Slumping quite unattractively in her dress, she let her hair fall back around her shoulders as she frowned at her refection.

"What is it, Marinette?" Tikki asked, zipping up in front of her face. "It's like you get more and more miserable the closer the day gets."

"Oh, Tikki," Marinette moaned, turning away from the mirror before flopping down on the small sofa chair she had in the corner of her workshop. She hardly seemed to care about wrinkling her dress. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"This is what you want, isn't it?" Tikki had flitted down into her lap.

Marinette wanted to shout to the heavens that "Yes! Of course this was what she wanted!" After all, what else could she ask for? Her very dreams were coming true. She was getting married—married to Adrien Agreste! She'd been in love with him since they'd attended school together. Looking back, that was near nine years of loving him, seven of which she'd been in a relationship with him.

She should be ecstatic, so why was it the closer to the wedding day she got, the more anxious she felt? Cold feet, maybe, but this seemed a lot worse than that.

It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Adrien. She did! She loved him. Immensely. With all of her being.

Well, most of her being, anyway.

"I think I should tell Chat," she blurted suddenly.

"Tell Chat what?" Tikki asked curiously.

"That I'm getting married."

"I thought you decided that telling Chat would be a bad idea," Tikki said, frowning as she did.

"I know!" Marinette replied helplessly, covering her face with her hands. "But he's my best friend, Tikki! I mean, Alya's my best friend, but he's, like, my _best_ best friend, you know? We've been fighting together for nine years. And if we were the sort of friends that friends usually are…"

"What, Marinette?"

"I don't know. I just know that I should have told him. I should have told him the day I got _engaged_!"

"You kept it from him because you didn't want to hurt him," Tikki reminded.

"Yeah, but…"

Tikki huffed. "Marinette, what is this really about?"

A question that Marinette wasn't even sure she knew how to answer herself. Because, really, what was her problem? Why was she suddenly so miserable and… having doubts? She knew she'd be happy with Adrien—she loved him so deeply. Yet, there was this constant nagging and she just couldn't seem to itch it away.

"Tikki, do you think things would have been different if… if I hadn't been in love with Adrien first?"

"In love with Adrien _first_?" Tikki asked incredulously.

"I- No, that's not what I meant," Marinette corrected hastily. "I just mean, if Adrien hadn't been there, do you think I would have… ended up with Chat instead?" He'd confessed to her once, all those years ago. But she'd been in love with Adrien. Adrien who, shortly after, had finally given her the chance she'd never thought she'd get. She'd rejected Chat, of course, and done so as gently as she could, but it still hung between them somehow—even if they'd both become experts at ignoring it.

This glaring "what if?"

"Marinette…" Tikki's voice was sympathetic. "You love Adrien, don't you?"

"Of course!" Marinette claimed right away. Adrien was practically perfect, as far as she was concerned. Kind, considerate, compassionate. He was always there when she needed him, and, honestly, quite good at keeping out of the way when she didn't. He was funny—in possession of a wry, witty sense of humor that, honestly, sometimes bordered on obnoxious (he had an equal love for puns as Chat). He believed in her, and supported her—much like Chat did—and went far above and beyond concerning everything. She knew they'd do fine together, and that they'd last. And she'd love him till the day she died.

"Then what's the problem?" Tikki asked. "You and Chat Noir are partners. He'll still be there, whether you're married or not."

"I know. I just…" Marinette sighed. "Was I wrong, to keep our lives separate as I always have?" Because Chat had always wanted them to reveal themselves to one another. If only so they could be friends. "Maybe I just want him to be part of my life. This is a big step, getting married, and Chat's always existed in this… place outside of real life. But… what about when Adrien and I have babies? He could be uncle… whoever he is, or their godparent or… I don't know, Tikki. I just… feel like I need him there for this."

Like if he wasn't, she was going to leave him behind somehow.

Tikki's expression was sympathetic. "I'll support you in whatever you decide to do, Marinette. You know that."

"That's not helpful…" she moped. Tikki didn't say anything more on the subject, however, leaving Marinette to wallow in her misery.

**oOo**

"No, Plagg, I'm sorry," Adrien said quite sternly from where he sat behind his computer. "There will be no Camembert at the wedding, I will not have any on my person, and you'll just have to deal with it." Rolling his eyes, he continued rifling through his stack of exams, punching in the points he'd written at the tops into the online grade book.

"I will starve. And die," Plagg said dramatically from where he was perched atop Adrien's monitor.

"Then we will hold a nice service for you, say a few kind words," he typed in a few numbers before smiling up at the kwami, "and move on with our lives." He cringe-smiled, before returning to his work.

"I'll make a scene."

"You will not." Adrien wasn't the least bit concerned.

"I'll tell everyone you're Chat Noir. They'll have no choice but to believe me because… well, I'm a fairy and that's weird. You're weird, Adrien, do you know that? And cruel. Cruel and weird. That's you."

"I appreciate the compliments."

"Why do you hate me?"

Adrien cocked an eyebrow up at him. "I don't know, probably because you make me smell like a cheese factory? Because you stashed so many half empty containers of Camembert in my desk this semester that one of my students asked if something had died in my office? Why are you asking questions you full well know the answers to?"

"I feel used and abused," Plagg griped.

"Yeah, I bet." Shaking his head, Adrien reached into his desk and pulled out a fresh container of Camembert. Opening it on the corner of the desk, he watched with fond amusement as Plagg's ears perked, before a small grin spread across that bulbous face and he darted down to begin feasting.

Adrien returned to his exams, running his hand through his shaggy hair every once in a while—when he came across a particularly bad grade. But that was life, he supposed. He wasn't a physics professor so he could make things easy. Most people had done alright on the exam, so the few that fell behind were responsible for getting in contact with him. He was usually around to talk, so long as he wasn't forced to take leave as Chat Noir.

Sometimes he wondered what his students would think if they knew he was Chat. Him, the young physics professor with—and he was quoting Mari here—a dorky sense of humor and far too much interest in anime (she watched it too, the hypocrite). Then again, maybe it wouldn't be so surprising, he was never sure. None of his students ever seemed surprised about his past as a model, so maybe Chat Noir wouldn't come as any great shock either.

Mari thought it was funny, whenever any of his students discovered any of his old modeling ads. He didn't find it quite so amusing. Mostly because it usually resulted in one student, every semester or so, coming to his office with more dubious intentions than to get help. Honestly, having a wedding band on his hand would soon be a relief.

After all, he couldn't help it if he was young and disastrously attractive.

Mari would probably slap him on the arm for thinking such things. Ladybug too, for that matter.

"Hey, Plagg?" Adrien said suddenly. "Do you think I should invite Ladybug to the wedding?"

The kwami didn't reply right away, only glancing up to blink his big green eyes as Adrien gradually turned to look back at him. "I thought you decided that would be a bad idea," he eventually managed to say around a mouthful of cheese.

"It's _Ladybug_ though," he whined, not for the first time. "I feel like if anyone should be at my wedding, she should be." They'd been partners for nine years! Best friends even, if he dared claim such a thing. It seemed somehow like he was betraying her by not even bothering to offer an invitation.

"Would that really be fair to Marinette?" Plagg asked, causing Adrien to furrow his brows. "Inviting an old flame to your wedding?"

"Old flame?" Adrien almost laughed. "Hardly. Ladybug's never been interested in me."

"But you were interested in her."

"Yeah. Seven years ago."

Plagg did not look convinced. And, honestly, Adrien knew he couldn't lie to the little kwami. "Look, part of me is always going to love Ladybug." He'd long since accepted this. "But that doesn't mean she's not practically family. I should at least do her the grace of inviting her." It wasn't like the sight of Ladybug at his wedding was going to change his mind or something.

No, it hadn't been easy, but Adrien _had_ locked away his feelings for Ladybug. He wouldn't say he was over her—he wasn't sure he ever would be—but there was no threat of relapse. Ladybug didn't feel that way about him. She probably had an amazing life outside being Ladybug with barely a thought for him. This was something he'd accepted a long time ago.

And even if that were suddenly to change, he wouldn't leave Mari for her. His love for Mari had taught him that it was, in fact, possible to be in love with two people at once.

When he'd first gotten together with Mari, it'd been fresh off getting rejected by Ladybug. It wasn't exactly a time he was fond of remembering, mostly because his guilt over still loving Ladybug had nearly caused him to break up with Mari multiple times. Finally, almost a year into them being together, he broke down and told Mari about his distress—leaving out crucial details of course. He wouldn't lie to himself and say she wasn't hurt. It'd been a difficult time between them. But she'd stuck by him anyway, the question of "why" still something he sometimes asked himself.

That was when he'd really begun to fall for Mari. She'd stayed, even after he'd admitted she was a rebound—his own way of trying to get over someone else. She helped him, supported him even when he didn't deserve it, and he'd never met anyone quite like her. She was so dedicated, so determined. She never gave up, not even on him.

It'd been slow, his own problems acting like a constant obstacle, but he truly had grown to love her. Love her so much that those feelings had long since overtaken any he had for Ladybug. These days, the affection he had for Mari was what flooded him constantly, while that for Ladybug was a dull throb in the bottom of his chest. Present, but no longer painful. Simply there. Something he'd carry with him forever.

Mari didn't resent him for his baggage. She accepted it as part of him and didn't let it weigh between them. She was so strong—much stronger than he was—and it was her strength that had carried him past Ladybug in the first place. That gave him the confidence to rebel against his father and take his future for himself. To become the person he wanted to be, and not what everyone expected. He didn't deserve Mari—not her patience or her faith or her vigor. But she was giving that to him, her love and herself, and he wasn't so stupid as to refuse that out of some high and mighty idea that he couldn't be with her because he had jailed feelings for someone else.

She knew his faults—she knew him better than anyone. Better than Ladybug. And he was completely devoted to her. No, Ladybug coming to his wedding wouldn't change anything. Ladybug could confess that she was in love with him and he'd still stay with Mari. One love didn't outweigh another—it was a choice.

And he was choosing Mari.

"I think it's just the polite thing to do," Adrien eventually mentioned, when Plagg offered nothing more on the subject. "I can't get married and not at least mention it to her." To Ladybug. "She'd have been my 'best man' if things had been different." If they hadn't kept so much distance.

Plagg sighed. "Do what you think is best, Adrien," he advised, sounding only barely invested. "But make sure you're doing it for the right reasons."

Adrien frowned at that implication, but didn't say anything more on the subject.


	2. Considerations

Landing with all the surefootedness years of practice had given her, Ladybug retracted her yoyo and clipped it back to her hip. Stepping down off the ledge of the building, she took in his silhouette on the other side.

They were meeting at their regular rooftop, as they had been twice a week for the last seven years. A lot had changed in that time—they certainly weren't the skinny, young teenagers they had been once. Ladybug wasn't sure how Chat Noir saw her these days, but she knew that he'd certainly grown in what many would consider the most flattering of ways.

He was much taller than he used to be, probably at least six foot though she'd never measured. Broad shoulders, thin yet muscular build. He really did have all the grace and strength of a cat, and all the wit and quick-mindedness of an intelligent young man in his prime. Sometimes Ladybug wondered who he was outside the mask—what sort life he led. Whether it was the bad boy stereotype he flaunted as Chat, or something more subdued. She found it was hard to tell, but she could only assume it was much more exciting than her own civilian lifestyle.

She wasn't sure if she was envious of the idea or not.

"Are you going to stalk me all night or come out of the shadows?" His question interrupted her thoughts, Ladybug grinning as he turned and offered her one of his bright, teethe smiles. His hair was a bit longer these days, falling about his chin, and it only appeared all the more wild for it.

But there was something endearing in the whole performance, if that was what it was.

"Sorry," she said honestly, stepping up beside him on the other side of the roof. "I was just thinking." He looked her up and down, as he always did. There was nothing to be read in his gaze. If there was something behind the look, he kept it well masked.

"Might I ask what about?" He'd pulled his staff from his back, allowing it to extend to the rooftop as he leaned his hands and chin upon it. As if to give the impression of total and complete attention to what she had to say.

No, it wasn't an impression. It was the truth.

"You may, actually," she replied, reaching up to fiddle with one of her pigtails. Her hair was longer than it used to be, trailing down just past her collar. She always made sure to put it up this way before she met him, simply because that seemed the appropriate thing to do. She hadn't worn pigtails in her civilian life in quite some time. Years probably. She was afraid it looked juvenile, even if it was her favorite hairstyle. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?" He sounded far too interested, that smile turning suggestive. So she rolled her eyes—because he really was a hopeless flirt.

Adrien was a hopeless flirt sometimes too, though generally only with her. She wondered if Chat flirted with everyone the way he did with her.

"Do go on," he encouraged. "I'm dying to hear."

She huffed. "You make conversation very difficult sometimes."

"Me?" He was aghast. "But I'm so easy to get along with."

"Mmmhmm." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Finally, his smile turned genuine. "I _am_ listening, My Lady, though your words sound rather portentous."

"Portentous? What a big word for a kitty cat."

"I'm a very well educated kitty cat," he smarmed. "I bet you wouldn't believe me if I told you I had a doctorate."

"A doctorate?" She _was_ surprised. "How impressive."

"Don't I know it."

"I suppose I should start calling you Dr. Noir from now on, if you're really quite that scholarly."

"While flattering, I would never ask for such a thing." He winked. "It goes against my image."

"I'm sure it does." She pursed her lips, supposing it was time to get serious. "I actually want to… invite you… to something."

This clearly took him aback. Because to "invite" him anywhere was to be personal. She knew the implication behind her words just as well as he did. They'd never been personal, not like that. Though they'd spent hours upon hours with one another, there'd always been a safe distance. Honestly, Ladybug wasn't even sure how she felt about what she was doing. But it seemed like the right thing to do. Or as though it was leading toward the right thing.

He hadn't offered more than curious brows as an ultimate response, Ladybug swallowing hard as she gathered her courage.

"I realize it's a little late notice," she started. "And that it would have been more… appropriate to invite you sooner. But I just… That's all quite beside the point." She waved her hand in front of her face, focusing out on the glowing city below as opposed to him. "The fact is, this Saturday," in four days, "I'm… getting married."

His green eyes grew very large, but she pushed on.

"And I wanted to invite you to come." She finally did turn to him then, her hands twining together nervously in front of her. Forcing courage, she looked him right in the eyes. It was the least she could do after all they'd been through, only to spring this on him.

"Ah…" He seemed at a loss for words, which was quite out of the ordinary for Chat. But he managed to recover, though it wasn't all that graceful. "While I'm flattered that you'd invite me—and I mean that honestly, even though it's last minute—I can't… go." Ladybug let her eyes drop. "It's not that I don't want to," he assured quickly, collapsing his staff as he reached out and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I just have a personal engagement on Saturday as well. One that I can't get out of."

"I see."

"It's a wedding, actually, oddly enough," he went on, tone becoming somewhat awkward. "And it's really just one that I can't afford to miss."  
Glancing up, Ladybug took note of the uncomfortable cringe just lightly pulling at his lips. How his whole posture seemed oddly defensive. Abruptly, she felt guilty for asking him at all. While there were lots of weddings on Saturdays, it seemed unlikely to her that he'd have one to attend on the same day as her own.

He was trying to be nice about it, she knew. About not wanting to go. She shouldn't have asked—shouldn't have put that kind of pressure on his shoulders. All this time they'd been keeping a safe distance and here she was, suddenly wanting to throw that all away. Because he couldn't show up to her wedding as Chat Noir. He'd have to show up as himself, whoever that was. And as she was the one getting married, she'd be herself as well. It was unfair, to drop that on him. To suddenly change everything at an event as big as a wedding.

Whether he actually had a wedding of his own to attend or not, it was an excuse. It had to be. She was out of line, she realized. All this time she'd been pushing him away, only to drop a bomb like this. What had she been thinking?

She hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. She'd been being selfish.

"I'm sorry," she eventually found herself blurting out. "It was late notice. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Ladybug, it's okay," he assured immediately, hand squeezing on her shoulder. "I really am grateful you invited me. And I'm… really happy for you. Whoever this person is that you're marrying, they're very lucky." Finally, his hand fell away.

"Thank you," Ladybug choked out, managing a small smile. "I'm glad you think so. I… He's a wonderful man."

"I'm sure he is." He managed a smile of his own, though it was smaller than usual. "But if he ever gives you trouble," his tone was abruptly serious, "you tell me. I'll kick his ass."

She laughed shortly, a bit of the awkwardness dissipating. "I think I could handle him quite well myself, thank you. He's not exactly the… confrontational type."

"Isn't he?" Chat crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, actually." She sighed. "And it's quite a relief. Not to say he's a coward by any means, but when things go poorly, he knows how to get out of the way. He has more self-preservation than most, anyway." Whenever anything happened that required Ladybug, Adrien was always more than capable of getting somewhere safe. She had no complaints about this.

"What good is self-preservation," Chat asked, holding up one arm to flex, "when you could be saving the day? And looking fabulous while doing it?"

"Please. If he acted any way like you, I'd have had a heart attack by now."

"But, you have to admit," he waggled his eyebrows, "I do look quite impressive, even when my feats prove more dangerous than you'd approve of." They both had their fair share of reckless moments, but Chat's did tend to be more rash than Ladybug would prefer. Mostly because he was, more often than not, the distraction while she carried out the plan.

"Not the descriptor I'd use."

"What descriptor would you use?"

"Foolish, for one," she countered. "And generally lacking in good sense."

"Do you have so little faith in me?" he asked, as she stepped up onto the ledge and reached for her yoyo.

"Contraire." She looked back at him. "I have the utmost faith in you." Smiling as best she could, despite the stone sinking in her stomach, she cast her yoyo out into the night and leapt from the building.

If it took Chat a little longer to follow than usual, she tried to ignore it. And if they were both a little quieter, she tried to ignore that too.

She wouldn't say either attempt was a raging success.

**oOo**

Adrien was tired. It'd been an exhausting patrol, more so mentally than physically. He could tell that Ladybug was upset by his rejection of her invitation. And, to be honest, he felt awful about it. The fact that it was short notice aside, he would have gone if he could. Even if it had meant revealing himself to her (the idea had never bothered him). He'd want nothing more than to support his partner in such an event, but he couldn't very well miss his own wedding to do it.

It was beyond ironic, really, that the two of them would be getting married on the same day. He'd had every intention of doing just as she had and inviting her to his own wedding, last minute as it was, and so he hadn't faulted her there. But it'd seemed pointless to bring it up after her invitation. Clearly, if he was getting married, and she was getting married, and it was all on the same day, then they couldn't very well attend each other's weddings. So he'd seen no point in making the whole thing more awkward than it already had been by bringing it up.

Besides, he wasn't sure what to think of her getting married in the first place. Of course it seemed normal—after all, he was getting married as well, wasn't he? Yet, despite this, he was feeling somewhat… down about the whole thing.

Both he and Ladybug were moving on with their lives. Somehow, it seemed to put more distance between them than there already was. Would there be a time when their civilian lives pulled them away from their superhero ones? When they put a stop to their weekly meet ups in favor of other things, only to see each other when trouble called?

It was sad, somehow, but maybe for the best. Perhaps keeping their identities to themselves was the wisest course of action to take. Funny, that the one time he'd finally agree with her about keeping the secret, she'd want to give it away. For all their good work together, sometimes it felt an awful lot like they were working against one another.

Somewhat slumped inside his own shoulders, Adrien carried himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. They—he and Mari—lived in a nice, three bedroom apartment downtown. Between both their incomes, they could probably afford a house, but that was something they'd decided to leave until after the wedding. As it were, they'd been in the same apartment for the last five years—while he'd finished his degree and she'd worked under his father at Agreste Designs. She still worked there, and as a head assistant no less, which had done well in giving her the clout when she'd finally released her own line the year before.

Adrien was grateful for his father's attention to Mari, knowing full well he wouldn't have given it if she hadn't deserved it. Things between his father and himself could be strained at times, but that never jeopardized her position.

Finally reaching the front door, he unlocked it before pushing his way inside. Mari was probably already home. It was convenient for him to roll his time as Chat Noir into his "office hours" as a professor, which meant that he generally used said office as a base for his comings and goings these days. Both he and Mari had odd schedules because of their jobs, so it never raised questions.

That was another great thing about Mari—she never got suspicious of his strange schedules. Sometimes he almost felt like he was taking advantage of her trust, but then he'd remember that he wasn't, technically, doing anything unseemly. At least, not that he'd consider such. Still, he knew it wasn't a secret he could keep forever.

He wondered if Ladybug's fiancé knew about her alter ego. He'd entertained telling Mari many, many times. But it'd never seemed wholly necessary. Yet, now they were getting married, so, really, he should be honest. He meant to spend the rest of his life with her, which meant she deserved the truth about everything going on in his.

Still, it was a daunting concept and he wasn't sure whether it was wiser to tell her before the wedding or after. He really should have asked Ladybug. She'd have known what to do.

"I'm home," he announced as he entered, making sure to lock the door behind him. He waited, expecting a response, but none came. Curious. Mari usually always greeted him.

Setting his briefcase down by the door, he hung up his coat before making his way through the apartment. "Mari?" She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, but there was a light on down the hall. Not to her study or his own, so most likely the bedroom.

He was right, the door open as he peered in. She was sitting on their bed, hands folded in her lap as she gazed thoughtfully down at the floor.

"Mari?" The sound of his voice seemed to startle her, head snapping up as she caught sight of him with wide, blue eyes.

"Adrien! You scared me!" She smiled, a hand going to her chest in relief. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"I guess so." He offered her a crooked grin as he walked in, slipping off his shoes by the closet as he did. "Might I ask what about?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, despite the great sigh that left her lips. "Just… wedding things." Of course—he should have known. That seemed to be all they talked about these days, which, he supposed, was only natural. Not like he was complaining.

"It's almost over," he comforted, coming around to sit down beside her. "Then we get to spend two weeks on vacation, so we'll both be able to recover." They weren't going anywhere for their honeymoon. Adrien couldn't afford to leave, not with the way baddies seemed to be drawn to Paris (or he and Ladybug, in any case). Thankfully, Mari hadn't expressed any interest in wanting to go anywhere either.

He wondered if Ladybug would be going somewhere after her wedding. Certainly she would have told him if she were going to be gone for any great length of time—they'd had to do such things before.

"I'll need it," Mari said with a smile up at him. "I'm still a little flabbergasted by the number people coming." Because this hadn't turned into a small affair. Between Adrien and his father's connections, which tied into Mari's, and then her connections and her parent's, as well as her family, they had a total of around two hundred people that had RSVPed—most of whom they didn't even know. But perhaps that was the price to pay not to be insignificant.

"At least we're not paying for most of it," he said. Which was true. Neither Adrien nor Mari had even entertained the thought of their parents paying for anything, but that hadn't meant Gabriel settled for simply attending. Between the venue, the food, the planner—a lot of it was free. Simply because Adrien was Gabriel Agreste's son. And when considering the headcount to attend, they'd decided to accept such things graciously.

"Who knew so many people would care to come," she went on. "Though I suppose it could be worse." Her eyebrows rose toward her bangs. "I can't imagine how some celebrities manage it all. What would the press think, for example, if Ladybug were to get married? Or Chat Noir?"

Adrien put on the appropriate amount of skepticism. "If they were smart, they wouldn't tell anyone."

"That is very true," she agreed with a light laugh.

Abruptly—as if the mention of Chat Noir getting married had set it off—Adrien felt a rather tight knot in his gut. He was suddenly hyperaware of Plagg out in his briefcase, and of how big a secret being Chat Noir really was.

"Look, Mari…" he cleared his throat. "We need to talk about something."

She cocked an eyebrow. "That sounds awfully portentous."

"Ah…" He chuckled at her word choice, but didn't comment. "I don't think I'd consider it that." He hoped.

"Well, that's good," she said, sighing a bit as she turned away. "Between work and the wedding, I don't think I could take any significant news of any kind."

He felt his words choking in his throat. "No?"

She peered at him suspiciously. "…What is it?"

Adrien pooched his lips and tried to come up with something to say—something that he could manage to get past his lips. And the whole time, Mari's eyes kept narrowing. Before he knew it, he was sweating. Wow, okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"It's just…" He couldn't look at her, abruptly aware that he'd been lying to her for the past seven years. "I got an email from my Aunt Gloria this morning." It wasn't a lie, it was true. Even if it wasn't the truth he'd intended. "Turns out she _can_ make it to the wedding."

"Oh, well, I guess that is a kind of news," Mari said flatly, reaching out to pat his knee comfortingly. "Don't worry. I'm sure we won't see her enough during the whole thing for her to get the chance to tell you how you've wasted your life away. Or that I'm a waste of your time."

"I'm sure we'll hear about it at some point."

"Not if we watch our step," she said with a sly smile. Adrien appreciated the look, allowing his previous nerves to seep away at her playful attitude. Perhaps it was better to wait 'til after the wedding to drop the bomb. No use putting her more ill at ease than he had to.

Perhaps he'd tell her during their vacation. That'd give her enough time to get used to the idea.

"I think avoiding Aunt Gloria all together will be rather impossible," he continued. "She's quite persistent. And quick, for being seventy-six years old."

"We can be quicker," she said confidently. "Or I'll have Alya distract her."

"Poor Alya."

"That's what maids of honor are there for," she reasoned. "To have your back when you can't." Adrien laughed, supposing that was true enough. He still remembered the way he and Mari had corralled Alya's Uncle Francis when the older man had had a bit too much to drink at her and Nino's wedding. It's been thrilling, to say the least. He and Mari made a good tag team.

Despite his humored thoughts, however, Mari's mood seemed to drop. Her smile slowly fell from her face and her eyes adopted that faraway look they'd had when he'd first come in.

"Mari?" Reaching out, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flicked her attention up to him immediately. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I- Yes." She smiled, though there seemed to be something a bit shaky about it. "I'm just… really tired is all. With the wedding so close, I think I'm letting the stress get to me."

"Everything's going to be fine," he assured, squeezing her shoulder a little tighter. "Everything is worked out. You'll see."

"I supposed you're right," she agreed quietly. Before she reached up and gently removed his hand from her shoulder. She held it for a moment, which only perplexed Adrien further, before she turned her attention upward. She smiled, beamed, and stood, leaning in and placing single kiss on his forehead before she walked out into the hall.

And as she disappeared, Adrien was struck with a feeling of such great loneliness that it made him shiver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is turning out a lot more bittersweet than I'd originally intended. And turns out there will be some angst. So, yeah. But not too bad, don't worry ;) 
> 
> None of that changes the fact that these two are ridiculous, lol. And stupid. I mean, they live together, wtf. And they still don't know who the other is? Like, omg, ugh. And yet this seems oddly plausible in the canon. Like, just, I don't even know. Get out of my computer. Just go. Please. They should be ashamed of themselves.


	3. Actions

"You look really pale. Maybe you should sit down." Alya had taken her gently by the arm, leading her over to the bed on the other side of the room. They were in the bridal suite at the Chateau du Rivau. Because it was Saturday. And Marinette was getting married.

She was about to marry _Adrien_.

Closing her eyes, Marinette tried to settle her nerves, but no amount of rationale seemed to be helping. Rather, she felt like she was suffocating inside her dress, and her hair was too tight, looped and braided on top of her head since that morning. More than anything, she wanted to rip everything away—hair, dress, undergarments, makeup. All of it. Or maybe just transform into Ladybug and call it a day.

Why was it so _hot_?

"Marinette?" Alya was speaking to her, but the blood pumping in her ears was making it a little hard to hear. "We're literally supposed to be walking out to the gardens right now. Are you okay?" Was she? Was she okay?

No. No she wasn't.

"I don't know about this," she admitted, breathing hard and gripping her side. The dress was so, so tight. "I don't think this is the right thing to do. It's going to be a disaster. Oh, god, Alya, I don't think I can do his." It was getting harder and harder to breathe all the time. And she knew she was sweating. It was going to smear her makeup and ruin everything.

"Whoa, okay, Marinette, just calm down a second, okay?" Alya had crouched down in front of her, laying her hands on Marinette's knees. "Look, you're just freaking out a little, okay? That's normal." She laughed. "Especially for you." Because Marinette tended to panic a bit about everything when it came to life-altering decisions. How could she function so well as Ladybug, but be stopped dead by nerves as Marinette?

Probably because Ladybug was habitual—it was something that never changed. Would her getting married affect that? Would if affect her relationship with Chat?

She felt like she was going to be sick.

"No, Alya, I really do think this is a bad idea," she choked out, forcing herself to breathe despite how her dress was trying to suffocate her. "You don't understand. You and Nino broke up."

"Wait? What?" Alya shook her head. "You're not making any sense."

"You and Nino," Marinette persisted. "Before you guys went to university, you broke up. You met other people, you- you slept with _girls_!"

"That's because I'm bisexual, yes," Alya agreed in flat amusement.

"I've never slept with girls!" Marinette went on. "I've never done anything!" Reaching out, she laid her hands heavily on her best friend's shoulders, as if that would somehow get across how weighty this whole thing actually was. "Don't you realize, Alya? I've only ever had sex with _one_ person! Just one!"

"Marinette, you need to breathe," Alya said, keeping her voice calm as she reached up and laid her hands over Marinette's. "You're panicking over nothing."

"It's not nothing, Alya!"

"Look, you and Adrien have been together for seven years," she started, smiling a bit as she did. "That's seven years that you two have been _happy_. Nino and I broke up because we wanted different things then, and because we didn't know ourselves. We weren't happy, and we couldn't be happy until we'd had that space.

"But you, Marinette—I know you're happy. And I know Adrien is happy with you. Honestly, I don't know that I've ever seen two people more perfect for one another. It doesn't matter how many people you've slept with, so long as when you're going down that aisle, you know the person waiting for you at the end is the last one you want to be with. Some people need more than one experience to know what's right, while others know right away. There's no right or wrong, and there's no point in comparing yourself to me."

"But…" Her friend's soothing words had calmed her some, allowing her to breathe easier as her focus fell to the floor. "What if he's not the right one?" What if there was someone else, and she'd just been too blinded by her own certainty to see it? She'd told herself since high school that Adrien was it—that he was the one. How had she known? Where had that faith come from?

And was it really justified?

"Oh, honey." Reaching up, Alya laid a hand gently across her cheek, smiling as she did. "It's not a matter of fate or… some such silly thing as that. It's a matter of choice. You love Adrien, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And you _want_ him to be the one?"

She nodded.

"Then he will be. Love doesn't just fall in our laps—we have to work for it. And work with it. You and Adrien… You do that exceptionally well. Not having been with other people doesn't discredit your feelings for him. It doesn't _do_ anything. If you love him, and you think you can spend your life with him, then that's it."

Breath shaky, Marinette closed her eyes and willed her nerves to settle. Because Alya was right. She did love Adrien—more than anything in the world. They'd planned their lives together, their futures, and she was excited to see those things through. She wasn't dissatisfied with any of it, nor was she looking for something else. Rather, it was only one question that was holding her back—that pesky "what if?" But there would always be "what ifs" in her life, resulting from every choice she made. She couldn't live with them holding her back.

Alya was right. This was choice. It was time to make it.

Sitting up, she swallowed before reaching up and straightening her dress. With it in place, she looked down at Alya and nodded. "I'm ready."

Alya's hand fell from her cheek. "I know you are."

Together, bouquets in hand, they headed from the suite and out into the courtyard. Shielded from the crowd by the gardens and the walls of the "castle," Marinette nodded to their wedding planner once they met her, as if finalizing the decision to continue.

This was it. She was making her choice. There was no right or wrong about it. Rather, it simply was, and that was good enough.

They had a string band, one that started to play once the signal was given. Nino waited for Alya at the entrance to the aisle, smiling when she came up beside him. They were happy, Marinette knew. They'd had their troubles—still did—but they'd created something worth living for from the debris.

She and Adrien could do that—make something worthwhile. There was no doubt in her mind about it.

When Nino and Alya stepped up under the arch, she smiled, a small thrill fluttering in her chest at the sight of them. A thrill that only grew as the seconds ticked by—as her father approached from where he'd been waiting and held out his arm.

He smiled. He was proud of her and very fond of Adrien. Everyone was. And she was the woman lucky enough to be walking down the aisle toward him. They belonged to one another—were going to vow to that—and she felt, maybe for the first time, how important that really was.

She returned her father's smile, nerves finally light with excited tension, as opposed to what she'd allowed herself to wallow in previously. A tingle ran up through her legs, making her giddy with nerves, and she did her best not to jolt forward when it was finally time.

She gulped and stayed at her father's side, thankful for his support as she gripped her bouquet with tight, tense fingers.

Walking slowly, as if to elongate the suspense, they gradually rounded the corner, until they stood beneath the flowering archway.

On cue, they paused, the officiant signaling for the guests to stand. The sound of feet, creaking bodies, swishing clothes, echoed in the silence, the band having come to a pause upon her appearance. But it didn't matter whether there were two hundred people or a thousand, or none, because she didn't focus on them.

Rather, as the violins began again and her father set their pace, her eyes fell to _him_.

From the pebbled ground up—his shiny black loafers, perfectly fitted black trousers and matching tuxedo jacket. He'd decided on a black undershirt, so as to bring out the green of his tie. Because greens and blues were the colors they'd decided on as part of the theme. It was a spring wedding.

He'd turned to watch her, his blonde hair carefully combed back to reveal the slight tan of his complexion and the soft curves of his still prominent jawline.

She'd grown up with this man—spent days and nights with that soft smile. With his firm yet gentle voice in her ear, his familiar hands on her body. Holding her, knowing her. Being the one above anyone else.

This was right. This was what she wanted.

 _Adrien_ was what she wanted.

And yet…

His lips were curved just slightly as she walked toward him, the corners of his eyes squinting just enough. Those eyes.

Green eyes.

Chat… He had green eyes too.

Sometimes, she'd been faced with two paths, neither of which she preferred. But, ultimately, she'd had to make a choice. But this… this was different. She'd never come upon a "Y" in the road that could lead off in two totally different directions and still seemingly be _right_.

She could marry Adrien; she could be happy with him.

Or she could be with Chat, if he'd have her, and be happy there as well.

Because she was in love with Adrien.

And she was in love with Chat too.

The realization hit her so fully that it nearly caused her to trip, her eyes still locked with Adrien's despite how the picture before her wavered. Between him and someone else, between one path and another. Neither was wrong, but neither was easy.

Like she'd been caught in a bubble, every noise, every voice, every slight scraping of shoes on stone faded away. Until she was alone, lacking feeling even in her limbs as her heart beat so hard in her chest that it shook her entire body. Her shaky, yet constant breathing was all her ears registered, eyes trained on the green ones that stared back at her.

She didn't know she'd stopped, that her feet had come to a steady halt halfway down the aisle. She didn't really know anything was happening, not until his smile began to falter. Maybe her father was whispering her name, questioning. Maybe Alya was going pale up at the front, hands sweaty around her own bouquet. Marinette didn't know, and, honestly, she didn't care.

Because the only one peering into her world in that moment was Adrien. He was the only one she was allowing in, even as his body turned more fully to her and his eyebrows furrowed.

As his smile faded completely from his lips.

Like a horse who'd been pushed too hard, the sound of her breath suffocated her, leaving her lightheaded and as though her body was out of her control.

She could see it, the way every bit of it flashed across his expression. Confusion, blinking questions, curiosity. Which turned to unease and then the dawning realization of what she was going to do before she herself knew it.

Maybe that was what caused her to take action at all, the meaning behind how his eyes widened and the knowledge that he knew perfectly well. The crack that split right between them in that small moment of comprehension that shifted from him to her.

The slow motion, the heavy water that bound her, was all she'd remember when she looked back. The struggle of having to swim weighed down in her dress as she backed away. As she slipped her arm from her father's hold and dropped her bouquet to the stony ground.

How everything seemed to zero in on his gaze on her, before it all snapped as she turned away.

When she ran.

Flight was a blur, was nothing more than pumping legs trying to rip free of heavy fabric. She didn't know where she went or how far, only that she was searching for something, anything, in the winding corridors of a castle she didn't know. Until she found herself in a dark room with the hammering awareness that someone would be pursuing her. That there was no safety there. Not in that place and not as she was.

"Tikki!" she gasped out, the little kwami zipping out from the special bow she'd created on the back of the dress to hold her. "We need to get out of here." The little fairy nodded, looking just as tense and concerned as anyone who would happen to look at Marinette in those moments—pale as paper, breathing hard, sweating.

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

She just needed to get out of there.

"Tikki, transform me!"

And she was gone.

**oOo**

He knew he was shocked, even if telling himself as much was the only way he was somewhat comprehending it. The rest of him was still too absent to register anything. If anyone had come up to him and asked what it was like to have legs, he'd likely have replied that he didn't know, because it didn't feel like he had any—even if he was stepping out of his car with the very appendages he could have sworn didn't exist.

Out of habit, he hit the keyfabe to lock up the vehicle before he dragged his seemingly disjointed self toward the door.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be feeling in those moments. He'd just been left at the altar by a woman he'd been with for seven years, loved, and been ready to devote his life to. In front of over two hundred people. Without explanation, no less. Not even after it'd happened.

Alya had been the first to go running down the aisle after Marinette, Adrien having been to stuck in shock to do it himself. He wasn't quite sure how she'd done it, but, somehow, Marinette had managed to disappear completely. She'd gone running inside and seemingly disappeared into thin air. Despite a thorough search, no one had found her.

Which was almost worse than her abandoning him to the caprice of every friend, family member, acquaintance, and stranger there to witness their nuptials. That she'd vanished without even bothering to explain herself. Instead, he'd been left to deal with everything on his own. Thankfully, he'd had Nino and Alya there, as well as Sabine, Tom, and his own father, but that hadn't made anything any easier. They'd still had to send everyone home. What about all the food? Would it go to waste? Did they give the gifts back? He didn't know. People were allowed to take them, most didn't. So what was to be done with all the extra parcels since there were no newlyweds to take them? Nino and Alya had taken care of it, probably assuming Adrien didn't want a bunch of gifts to remind him of the marriage he wasn't starting.

They'd all tried to text her, but it was to little avail. It was only later in the afternoon, once everything had seemingly calmed down into a sort of quiet shock, that Alya received a single message from the ex-bride.

"I'm fine," was all it'd said. It didn't matter how many worried messages Adrien had sent her, how many from her parents. That was all she offered up.

To say it'd hurt would be a bit of an understatement.

But still, the worst of it was the nagging question of "why?" Adrien couldn't, for the life of him, think of anything that would make her do this. He'd thought they were fine, that their relationship had been stronger than ever. He'd thought this would be easy—just one more step in a path that was totally clear before them.

God, he wanted so badly to know _why_.

The question plagued him as he climbed the stairs to their apartment. Nino and Alya had offered him a guest bed in their house for the night, but he'd declined. He either wanted to be with her, to get an explanation, or be alone. Because, despite being fully aware of what had transpired, it still hadn't fully sunk in. And when it did, he didn't want to be at the mercy of others' sympathy. If there was anything Adrien knew how to do, it was deal with pain, and generally he did it on his own.

When this did finally hit him—when his body finally returned—he knew it was going to hurt.

Hurt too badly to describe.

Fumbling for his keys, he pushed the right one into the lock. The lack of the familiar turning mechanism caused him pause. Because that meant the door was unlocked.

For a moment, he didn't know what to do. If the door was unlocked, then, naturally, someone must have unlocked it. Which meant she'd been there. And, as it was still unlocked, it was a fair guess to think she still was.

His heart beat heavy and hard in his chest, a shiver running through his hands.

But he had to face this. The numbness would fade faster if he did, and maybe, this way, he'd get answers.

He _needed_ answers.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself inside. The apartment was dark, only moonlight drifting in from the balcony door, igniting the living room. But it was enough. Even from the door, he could see her.

She sat by the glass doors, back straight despite how she stared down at her lap. Her hands were folded there, atop the lace of her wedding dress. The white fabric seemed to pool around her, flaring out at her feet in graceful waves. Really, with her dark, midnight hair undone and flowing over her shoulder, she looked breathtaking. Beauty incarnate.

And yet, there was no way he could appreciate it. Not in that moment. Not as they were.

Broken.

The last time anything had been broken between them, he'd done it. With his feelings for someone else at the beginning of their relationship. They'd grown only strong since. Would this be the same? Could they recover from this?

Did she want to?

Did _he_ want to?

Breath shaky, he closed the front door quietly behind him, locking it before he set his keys on the counter nearby. They clattered, the only sound, but she didn't move. She knew he was there, just as he was aware of her.

Not bothering with the lights, Adrien forced himself forward. Closer to her, yet farther than ever.

Feeling old and tired, he sat down on the couch in front of her. Still donning his tux, she her dress, it seemed almost an insult to what should be happening. To the joy he'd thought would come home with them.

She still didn't look at him and Adrien didn't push her. He didn't have the energy. Instead, elbow on the arm of the chair as he propped his chin on his fist, he turned to look out the glass door, across the rooftops of the buildings nearby.

Adrien Agreste—Chat Noir—left at the altar. What a thought.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice didn't jolt him. It didn't _do_ anything. Because what kind of apology was that, after what she'd done? Even if he wasn't feeling it in those moments, he was angry. Disappointed. And he had every right to be. Words so small would not remedy the situation. He was still deliberating on whether words existed that could.

He didn't look at her.

"I'm sorry, Adrien," she repeated. "Even though I know it doesn't matter."

"No, it'd doesn't," he said coldly.

"I panicked."

"Clearly."

She didn't say anything more, Adrien struggling against the sudden urge he had to look her way. He was afraid her shame and her beauty would soften him. He wasn't ready to be soft yet.

"Why did you do it?" he managed to choke out, jaw tense. "You owe me that."

"I do," she admitted. "I… I'm not quite sure why I did it. I just… I saw you standing there and this feeling of… of 'what if' just… took everything."

"'What if?'" he asked, finally feeling armored enough to look back at her. "What if what?" Yes, his words were harsh. Her explanation wasn't one, it just created more questions. He didn't want questions—he wanted answers.

"What if I… I had taken a different path," she said, voice strong despite its quiet nature. "We've been together a long time. And I've loved you for longer than that. I've been wondering lately if my love for you had… had blinded me to other things. Had stopped me from seeing potential in other places."

"Blinded you?" he asked, not bothering to hide the incredulity of his tone. "Potential in other places? What places?" He was beginning to feel, that cold trickle of pain at what she implied being the thing that started to pry him open.

But she was quiet.

So he dared to ask. "Is there someone else?" Because what else could she mean?

"I don't… I don't know… that there is," she admitted, which did little in exposing anything one way or another. "I don't know that he feels the same way about me. Anymore…"

"The- the same way," Adrien sputtered out, the trickle expanding into a stream down through hm. "You have feelings for someone else."

"I…" She finally looked up at him, blue eyes wide despite their bloodshot disposition. "I'm in love with him…"

The stream became a river, Adrien having to close his eyes to gather himself into something at least relatively coherent. "In love with him…" he parroted. "How long has this been going on?"

"Nothing's been going on," she corrected. "I've known him as long as I've known you. A friend. No one you know."

"Really?" What, did she have a secret life outside their own? The thought was somewhat hypocritical, because _he_ had a life beyond theirs, but still, it hurt. Because he never would have thought that of Mari. "And you're suddenly in love with him?"

"I don't think it's sudden. I think I've always loved him. I just… didn't realize it until today."

The opportune time to do so, obviously.

"So you- you want to be with him, then?" Adrien asked bitterly.

"No." And yet her words didn't sound totally sincere. "I want to be with you, but I also… want to be with him." Not all three of them at once, that wasn't what she was implying. He knew what she meant.

"You can't be in two places at once."

"I know that."

"So, what? You love me, but it's not enough?"

"It is enough," she replied. "I just… never considered what a life with him could be like instead."

"And now you want to see," he determined.

"I don't know. I think I… I think I need to tell him, at the very least. Just so he knows. Just so I know how he feels."

"Do you think he has feelings for you?"

"He did… once."

"Once."

"Back in high school, he confessed to being in love with me. I… rejected him, because I'd had feelings for you. But we've stayed friends and I…"

"How do I _not_ know this person?" Adrien practically growled. But the response he got was silence. She even turned away, apparently quite set on not telling him anymore about this infamous man. As if this man, and whatever section of her life he resided in, wasn't for him to be part of.

It was the first of what he knew would be many stab wounds she'd inflict on him. Looking at her then, expression masked before him—he felt almost like he didn't know her at all.

That was the second stab.

"I do love you," she eventually muttered.

"Not enough, obviously."

"That's not fair…" But she could only whisper the words.

"Not fair?" he hissed. "No, what's not fair is that you waited until our wedding day to figure this out. You think I don't know the kind of dilemma you're in? You know I do. But I didn't waste seven years of my life before I did something about it."

"I didn't realize…"

"That's bullshit." Standing abruptly, he paced away from her, to the sliding glass door, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't be in love with someone for that long and not know it."

"It's not that simple," she murmured. "I was happy with you. I didn't fathom until…" She sighed. "I knew I could be happy with you."

"So why now, then?" he asked. "If I can make you happy, then why not choose me and leave him behind?"

"Because I can't… leave him. He's too important."

A third stab. Who could this man be, to cause her to be so conflicted? And how much must she love him to run out on a wedding to a man she claimed to love just as much? He knew he shouldn't fault her for her feelings, no matter how she'd acted. Because he loved two people. But he'd made a choice—he'd nurtured one love over another, not… what, accidentally indulged in both? He couldn't even know! Because there was some part of her life where this man existed that he didn't know!

"So what will you do?" he asked stiffly. "Tell him? And what if he doesn't want you?" The question hung. It hadn't been a kind inquiry and he hadn't intended it to be. He'd dealt with his feelings—he'd tried his best not to drag her into the mess that was his broken heart over Ladybug. He'd taken control. And yet here they sat, she dealing with the same thing and he without the buffer of any kind of intention on her part. A shattered disaster encompassing them both.

"I don't…"

"You think you can just… go off with him and then come back to me when he rejects you?" He finally turned on her, not allowing the sight of her rapidly blinking lashes to affect him. "Where does that leave me?"

"I don't know…" A few tears streaked down her cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.

He ground his teeth, gulping back the dry sandpaper coating his own throat.

"I made a choice, Mari," he said through gritted teeth. "I _chose_ you. There's no playing both sides—that's not how this works." He knew that better than anyone. Knew the pain of having to give up one love for another. Though Ladybug had rejected him, he could have continued to hope. But he hadn't allowed himself that. He'd stomped out such things; he'd put his faith in someone else.

And now that someone was… betraying him.

The fact that all she could do was sit there in tears, without any kind of defense, made it almost intolerable. For the first time in his life, he couldn't even stand to look at her. Frustrated, hurt, and with the numbness fading, Adrien marched from the room. He needed space, air to breathe.

He went to the bedroom, avoiding any and all memories that tried to resurface there. Shucking off his tux jacket, he let it fall gracelessly to the floor before he harshly tugged his tie loose and ripped it off. It was only once the top buttons of his shirt were undone that he allowed himself the huffing breaths of grief.

He didn't know how long he stood in there, staring at the carpet with his hands on his hips, just trying to take it all in.

But it was too much and he was angry and he didn't want to deal with it all.

Whipping around, he marched back out into the living room, if only because he wasn't sure he could hold it in anymore.

Yet, upon entering the room again, he was smacked with the realization that he was alone.

She was gone.

After everything she'd done, after all her excuses, and she'd just… vanished. Again. Without a sound, without warning. He felt robbed, because she deserved to hear his wrath, his hurt. That was the least she could do, after how she'd…

 _Destroyed._ _Everything_.

And yet, there he stood, silent and in misery.

Unable to do anything more than bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THROWS COMPUTER ACROSS THE ROOM*
> 
> *SCREECHES INTO THE NIGHT*


	4. Truths

He'd planned to be up the night of his wedding. But not like this. Considering what had happened, however, made it difficult to find sleep. Sitting alone in his empty apartment, wifeless, had done him no favors. Rather, it'd been about the worst place he could be.

But, suited up, he really wasn't that much better off. Instead of sitting, frustrated and angry, in his living room, he was simply sitting, still frustrated and angry, on a high rooftop. At least the view was better though, he supposed. At that point, he'd take whatever small, irrelevant victories he could get.

He was slumped back against an air conditioning unit, his feet propped on the ledge. His ears were flat back against his hair and his tail flicked occasionally, the motion generally harsh and twitching.

Really, his life was over as he'd known it. Sure, he had his job and his apartment, but Mari was gone. At least, for now. He wasn't sure what she was doing, and he tried to tell himself he didn't care. A lie, of course, but it made it easier to convince himself that when she came back, he'd be able to reject her.

That was probably a lie too.

Really, this whole thing was so fucked up.

Maybe he should just go destroy something. He was beginning to think it was either that or break out in tears (which had already happened once, when he'd come to the living room and found Mari gone. He wasn't far from that edge again).

The thought of doing anything, however, was interrupted when he sensed a familiar presence behind him. She'd been silent, but he knew she was there nonetheless. Yet, despite his typical pleasure at being around her, he had no desire to speak with her then. He didn't want to see anyone, really, and he'd assumed he'd be safe to drown in his misery with it being Ladybug's wedding night too.

Because, actually, what _was_ she doing there? She'd said she was getting married as well. So why would she be out with him when she should be celebrating her first night as someone's wife?

He latched on to that curiosity, if only for something to think about, but didn't have the time to turn before he heard it.

The shaky breath and light sniffling.

Like she was… crying?

Whipping around abruptly, ears perking, Chat looked her up and down, gaping just slightly when he saw the way her shoulders shook and how tears streamed almost violently down her cheeks. Her hands were fists, gripped tightly in front of her, and it looked like it was taking all the control she had not to burst out sobbing. Her jaw was tight, teeth clenched, and a shiver rocked her whole body.

He'd seen her upset, but not like this. Never like this.

Apparently he wasn't the only one having a horrific night.

"My Lady," he murmured, standing before quickly closing the distance between them. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back as her nose bumped into his chest. It was a good distraction, someone else's pain. He'd take that. Take it over his own for as long as he could.

She almost seemed to collapse into him, her control melting away as she burrowed her nose into his suit. She reached up and dug her fingers into his back, her sniffling finally turning to soft sobs as she shook viciously against him.

He held her tighter, leaning his chin on the top of her head, and tried to rock her into some kind of calm. Maybe it worked for him too, having someone there just as miserable as he was. To share the pain, even if they didn't know from what the other's injury stemmed.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured, stroking her back as all her weight fell against him. She was shaking so badly it was amazing she was even still upright, her disposition weaker than a dead leaf in the wind. He cradled her closer, not caring that she continued to cry against him.

"Calm down," he said, trying his best to keep his voice steady despite his own ache. Despite how he wanted to give in and simply cry with her. "It's alright. Everything's okay."

"N-n-no it's n-not!" she managed to choke out, her words hardly understandable, skipping and muffled against him as they were. "Wh-what have I do-do-done?!"

"Shhh, shhh," he cooed, continuing to rock her gently. "Whatever it is, it'll be alright."

"N-n-n-no it won't," she continued to object. "I hurt h-h-him…"

Chat didn't know what else to say. There came a time in someone's distress when words would offer no comfort—when there was nothing to do but be there through the pain. He knew that better than anyone in those moments. Nothing anyone could say could ease his own anguish and heartbreak. There was simply no cure for that and one had to either heal on their own or continue to suffer. As of that moment, he was in the stage of constant misery. And seeing as Ladybug wasn't enjoying her own wedding night, he could only assume she was in much the same position.

What a pair they were.

Holding her a little tighter, Chat gulped back against the dryness in his own throat, laying a soft kiss on the top of her head. Her sobs weren't easing, the sound and sight of them making it harder and harder for him to push back on his own shattered emotions. Until no amount of swallowing and blinking was enough. He cringed, his own tears leaking across his mask. He sniffed, the broken parts of him so close to the surface that, once the dam was cracked, there was no pulling any of it back.

"I-I've ruined e-everything," she sobbed, Chat's lips trembling as he laid his cheek against the softness of her hair. "I lo-love him s-s-so much and I _left_ h-him!"

Chat's teeth gritted, grinding as he tried to stop his own chest from sucking in trembling breaths, but it didn't work. None of it did any good.

"He'll n-never forgive m-me," she went on. "He loved me and I b-broke his h-h-heart."

It was a bitter thought, one that brought a grimace to Chat's face. "I'm sure it's not all that bad," he whispered. Because he knew bad. Whatever Ladybug had done, it couldn't have been worse than what was done to him. Or, at least, he couldn't fathom she'd do something worse than that. He hoped she wouldn't. But, no matter, he found himself feeling for her intended. Spurned and broken. "I'm sure he can forgive you."

His words only seemed to upset her more, her shaking knees wanting to buckle beneath her. But he held her up, if only because doing so—focusing on her—allowed him to stay standing.

"It can't be as bad as what happened to the poor guy at the wedding I went to," he murmured, his words self-deprecating despite how he tried to wrap them in jest. But that was what was easier—trying to find some humor in it all. Maybe, if he could bring that to her, it'd all be worth at least a little something. Make the best of what he had and all that. "His bride left him at the altar."

With a quick breath, her crying came to a sudden halt, her whole form stiffening in his hold. She was still trembling, but it was accented by static quiet, Chat unsure what to make of that—why his words had affected her so.

Until, weakly, she was pushing away from him, her lips quivering as their eyes met. As she blinked and took a step back.

"You- you were _there_?" she asked quietly.

He didn't understand.

"How were you _there_?"

"What…?"

"I can't believe you s-saw it!" she cried, sobs once again wracking through her body. She'd pulled away from him, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she violently shivered. "I can't _believe_ you were _there_!"

She looked like she was going to collapse, Chat going a quick step forward and taking hold of her shoulders. His claws imbedded a bit in her suit, his heart racing for reasons he wasn't comprehending quite yet. But something was wavering at the edge of his thoughts, something he was afraid to reach for.

"What are you talking about, Ladybug?" he asked seriously, tone grave. "Where was I?"

"At my wedding!" she sobbed out, trying to step away from him. But he didn't let her. "I left h-him standing there! And you _saw it_!"

"Left who standing where?"

" _Adrien_!" she cried.

It was like an ice cold bucket of water had been dropped over his head, Chat closing his eyes as his heart tried to spring around painfully inside his chest. He wasn't even sure he could wrap his exhausted mind around this, or even believe it was happening. Somehow, he was sure he must have heard wrong, or was making it up in his delusional, heartbroken head.

His jaw was tight, teeth grating so fiercely he thought they might break.

He held her tighter. "You… You left Adrien Agreste at the altar?" he managed to get out, the words dark and steady despite how he wanted to scream. " _Why_?"

"Because of _you_!" she shrieked, Chat stumbling back as she violently pushed him away from her. She took a step away, her lips snarling as she retreated into herself like a wounded animal. "I left him because I'm in love with _you_!" The words weren't soft or padded. They were anything but. Thorny and sharp, and coated in loathing and resentment. " _I hate you_!"

A contradictory claim, certainly, but unable to injure Chat. Because he was gaping, shocked as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in. It was utterly ridiculous, really. So much so that he almost couldn't bring himself to believe it was true.

But she'd just admitted to it, and he was pretty sure there was only one Adrien Agreste who'd been left at the altar in Paris on that particular Saturday.

And if she'd done the leaving, that meant…

That meant Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He'd been left at the altar by a woman that loved him, because she was also in love…

With him. Again. The same person.

The whole thing was so frustrating and ludicrous, he almost wanted to be sick. He could actually feel his stomach heaving and it took every bit of his concentration not to puke his guts up all over the rooftop. Rather, he closed his eyes and pulled his hand to his forehead, shivering and hot and queasy and stumbling. He forced his legs wider, if only to keep himself upright, and could feel the way sweat was forming all over him, seeping up from places he hadn't even realized it could.

He didn't even know he was laughing until he was doubled over and falling to his knees. The crack that was sent through his body as he collided with the roof hardly registered, his stomach still wanting to throw itself up as his laughter grew manic.

But perhaps laughter wasn't the right word to use. He wasn't sure there was a word for it. Insane cackling, maybe, accented by sobs and tears that tore him in the same moments. Two conflicting actions that felt as though they were ripping his body apart.

"Chat?" Her voice sliced through his senses like a knife, a hysterical moan tearing from his throat as he leaned forward on his elbows, his face cradled in his hands.

A mental breakdown. That was what it was. He was having a mental breakdown.

Because the two women he'd loved were the same person, and she'd rejected him twice for himself and he'd fallen in love with her twice and now they were standing on a rooftop after she'd abandoned him at the altar for _himself_!

It was too much. It was just too much.

He wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure this psychotic break would be enough to kill him. Which seemed fitting. Because, naturally, it'd be Ladybug, _Marinette_ —this one infuriatingly irresistible woman—that would cause it.

Because his life was a fucking three-ring-circus.

"Chat? Are… Are you alright?"

"No…" he whined, tears still falling unhindered onto the rooftop as his fingers slipped up and burrowed themselves violently into his hair. "No, I'm not alright! And you're not alright! And we're both _fucking idiots_!" He was pretty sure he'd sobbed through the whole speech.

"Chat…?"

"We're both such fucking assholes!" he went on, actually pulling at his hair. He was lucky it wasn't falling out by the chunk. "Jesus fucking christ, Mari!" He was laughing again, and crying, and he couldn't even tell the difference.

He didn't see the way she gaped, or how her eyes grew big. "How-how do you know who I am?" she asked, the words breathy.

"Because you left me at the _fucking altar_!" he howled into the rooftop.

As if the realization of the whole thing, of voicing it, was too much, he lost control. His brain shut down, his body a bundle of nerves incarnate. His whole abdomen felt like it was going spill out of him, heaving violently. He couldn't hold it back. Even as he pulled his head up and tried to stumble into standing—an instinctual attempt to escape what was happening—he was losing control.

Thankfully, he'd hardly eaten anything that day. All that came up was bile and water, his whole body bowing brutally as he shook on all fours.

Because it wasn't just this that was shredding everything inside him. Not just Marinette abandoning him in front of two hundred people. It was feelings balled up for seven years, feelings that he'd taken such painstaking effort to carefully hide away in the darkest places of himself, where he'd dared not tread. Agony and rejection, and longing for something he'd accepted he'd never have. All of that, turned on its head too fast for him to comprehend. Too fast to work through. It rushed through him like an aching burn, painful and old and echoing of agony he'd had to go through over and over again until he was numb to it. Until it was this scar that he'd carefully kept bandaged, only to have it viciously sliced open in a matter of moments.

"Chat!" Her voice was in his ear, calling to him. But he couldn't breathe. His ears were ringing too loudly and his chest was clogged with so much that he couldn't even try to take in air. "Chat! Adrien! Adrien, I need you to calm down!" He could register her words, but they weren't having any effect. Like he was inside a fishbowl and she was uselessly banging on the glass.

God, he was suffocating. This really was going to kill him.

" _Adrien_! You're having a panic attack! You need to breathe! I need you to do that for me! Please, Adrien! Chat! Breathe!"

She said it like it was easy. Like every breath he'd been taking in her presence the last seven years hadn't been painfully full of pins and needles. Like he hadn't been putting up with a constant ache that sometimes felt more apparent to him than any other sensation he'd ever felt.

She was asking him to take those familiar agonies and throw them away. Like their constant presence hadn't been what kept him grounded this whole time—advising him not to hope in her, to find his hope elsewhere. Hope that had been shattered earlier that day by the same woman. And now she wanted him to somehow find that all over again? In both Ladybug and Marinette?

It was terrifying.

"Chat, _please_!" she begged. "Don't make me drag your ass to the hospital!" Because she'd do it. "Goddammit, Adrien!" she practically screamed at him, the feeling of her fist slamming down on his back hardly registering. "Stop freaking out and _breathe_!"

"I can't stop freaking out!" he shouted harshly back at her, a bubble of a breath hiccupping inside him as he did. "This is your fault! You're a horrible woman!" Another breath, even if it was only slight. "You've tortured me for years and then you _left_ me! What's _wrong_ with you?!" His lungs shook, trying as best they could to get oxygen to his brain. "How many times do you have to break me until you're satisfied?!" He huffed rapidly, still shaking as he did. "God damn you!"

"I'm sorry!" she screamed back at him. "I didn't know!"

"Why do you do this? Why do I let you do this to me? Why are you so _awful_?!" His hand went to his chest, his teeth gritting as he labored to breathe in and out.

"I don't _know_!"

"God, I _hate_ you!"

"Yeah, well!" She was still screaming, and he was finally able to register things outside his own burning head. "I hate you too!" Her voice shook and he could hear the echoes of whimpers in her voice. Pointless, all of it—his own suffering and hers. He couldn't believe they'd done this to themselves.

If only they'd just been honest in the first place—nine years ago when they'd met. How he envied that smarter version of himself.

"Get _away_ from me!" he ordered, knowing he sounded childish even as he reached out to push her away. He finally looked up at her, not bothering to hide the ugliness in his expression. He could see it, the way she'd fall back and away as a result of his shoving her. But it didn't happen.

Because his attempts to get away from her weren't working. Her wrist was gripped in his fist and he couldn't let up!

"Go!" he commanded, holding her in place.

"No!" She tried to push back on his shoulders, but it didn't work.

"Get _away_!" he screamed, yanking her arm closer as he leaned up. As they sat, face to face.

"You can't _make me_!" she screeched, trying to tug her arm from his hold to no avail.

"Just leave me _alone_!"

" _No_!"

"I don't ever want to see you again!"

"Yes you _do_!"

" _Get back!_ "

"NO!"

" _YES_!"

"I LOVE YOU!" she screamed, sobbing.

"AUGH-I LOVE YOU TOO!" And he kissed her.

He wasn't sure if it was the worst or the best kiss he'd ever had, and, honestly, no amount of looking back on it would probably make that any clearer. Knowing things in general was impossible in that moment. Because her lips were salty and chapped from crying and his were probably worse, but he didn't care. And she didn't care. And none of that mattered as his hands found her waist, claws scraping lightly at her suit as her own arms wrapped around his neck.

Their lips pulled at one another, ravenous and desperate as Chat dropped one of his hands and hooked it up under her knee. He tugged her forward, a light gasp leaving her lips as she settled into his lap.

Her own hands had graduated up into his hair, mussing it worse as she leaned over him. He had his face turned up toward her, claws dragging up her sides as he nipped at her bottom lip. Until she was deepening the contact again, sucking hard—as though she'd pull the breath right out of him.

It was oh so familiar, and yet newly thrilling all in the same moment.

"Ah, Chat," she panted out they paused to catch their breath, breathing labored as their noses bumped clumsily. "Adrien. I'm sorry."

"You're not allowed to talk anymore," he issued, pulling her lips to his again. Talking meant thinking. He wasn't ready to think about any of this yet.

"But," she pulled back again, Chat following her and littering kisses along her jaw, up near the base of her ear. That was a weak spot for her. "What- _ah_ \- what about all those _people_?"

He growled, nipping at her neck. "Stop _talking_."

"O-okay." Their lips slammed together again. Scraping at her back, he held her as close to him as he could, biting at her lower lip as she pulled somewhat harshly at his hair. Anxiously, greedily, like she wanted to pull him apart.

How he wanted to let her.

"We should go home," he whispered into her lips. "We _need_ to go home."

"Yes, home," she agreed, before continuing to ravish his mouth. He almost slammed her back against the rooftop right then and there, determined to have his way with her, but it was the flashing lights of the city that kept them both teetering on the edge of control. Until they both knew they were walking a dangerous line. Ultimately, it was Ladybug, _Marinette's_ , habit of teasing that drew them apart. That had her swinging off the roof with him close behind.

Until they were stumbling in through the sliding glass door together, once again wrapped up in one another as they staggered through the living room. They missed all the couches and almost ended up in a tangled mass on the floor. But Ladybug flitted away just as they were losing their balance, her eyes peering longingly at him over her shoulder as she quietly whisked her way down their dark hallway.

Hand reaching out if only to touch her, he shadowed close behind. Until they were folding together against their bedroom wall, Chat trapping her there so as not to allow her to escape again.

Hooking his hands up under her knees, he hefted her into the air, delighting in her gasp as he pinned her with the rolling of his hips against her own. Legs wrapping tightly around him, she was once again sifting her fingers through his hair as they drank one another in, Chat's claws sliding up along the backs of her thighs.

"My Lady," he sighed into her, continuing to drive his body against hers.

She smiled, her fingers passing by the edges of his ears atop his head, which caused them to twitch. "Kitty, kitty," she murmured teasingly, squeezing her legs more tightly around his hips.

There was no wife and no husband, but perhaps their wedding night wouldn't be a total waste after all.

**oOo**

Marinette supposed he was right—they were idiots. It seemed ridiculous now, that they hadn't known each other's secret. They lived together, for crying out loud. She'd been sleeping with Chat for the last six years. And yet neither of them had known.

But, perhaps, when the eyes didn't want to see… And it had been convenient, having a significant other who also had to vanish at the sight of an enemy. It meant they were never dancing around one another—because they were always together. Though, so much for Adrien having any sense of self-preservation. She'd definitely been wrong about that.

Sighing at her reflection in the mirror, she patted under her eyes, which were still somewhat swollen from how upset she'd been the day before. But at least she'd washed her face, so she didn't look like a total disaster. And brushed her teeth. She'd needed that.

So did Adrien, for that matter. But he was still asleep, so she wouldn't bother him.

Instead, she fiddled with the ends of her pigtails, debating on whether she wanted to straighten them or not. As they were, the hair was pulled out in certain areas, uneven and lopsided.

Adrien had insisted she keep the pigtails the night before, and he'd made good use of them. As a result, they were completely rumpled. But… she kind of liked the look of it, grinning a bit to herself as she recalled with a certain degree of thrumming fondness how it'd felt to have his hands wrapped tight within the tails.

Yes, she'd leave them.

Turning from the mirror, she made her way back to the bedroom.

Any intents she'd had to crawl back under the covers were dashed by the familiar sight of those green eyes snapping up to her. He was lying on his back, their comforter pushed down in a crumpled mess—like he stretched out and smushed it against the end of the bed. Fingers tapping on his chest, he kept his focus on her as she made her way over, one of his knees bent lazily.

"Good morning, My Lady," he said as she crept back up on the mattress. He opened his arms to welcome her a second later, bare skin on skin as she settled down on top of him, arms folding over his chest before she leaned down on her chin.

He stroked her back with his nails, the touches feathery light and sending small shivers up and down her skin.

His lazy grin was too hard to resist, Marinette returning the look despite herself.

"You know," she started a second later, leaning up to lay a single kiss on his collarbone. "It all makes sense now."

"What does?"

Her grin turned mischievous. "Why you always loved to role play Ladybug and Chat Noir."

He laughed, despite the slight flush that washed only quickly through his cheeks. "What can I say? You made a very convincing Ladybug."

"Naturally." She hummed. "But it does mean you were thinking about her those times instead of me."

"'Her?'" He cocked a skeptical brow. "You _are_ her. And don't even get me started on that kind of thing. You're the one that left me at the altar, remember. For Chat Noir."

She groaned, laying her forehead on her arms. "Why'd you have to bring that up?"

"Because it just happened yesterday," he explained. "And there were over two-hundred people there to witness it." She groaned again. "And because we've both probably got dozens of messages on our phones as a result." From parents and close friends, no doubt.

"Can't we just pretend it never happened?"

"We could," he said, chuckling, "but I'm pretty sure no one else is going to."

"We'll send them apology cards with the thank you cards," she muttered.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Adrien?" she peeked back up at him. "I am sorry…"

His hand came up and caressed the side of her cheek. "I know. I forgive you. I'm flattered, actually. In a messed up sort of way." She giggled. "And it's… nice to know, I guess. That you're in love with every part of me." Even if the result of such had started out rough.

"Do you… Do you love every part of me?" she asked quietly.

He smiled softly. "I never stopped, My Lady."

She really did consider herself lucky for that—after everything she'd put him through. She'd have to spend the two weeks of their "honeymoon" making it up to him. And the rest of her life too, for that matter.

"I don't deserve you…" she murmured.

"Yes you do," he replied easily, before taking a deep breath. "After everything that's happened, we deserve each other." And he didn't say as much like it was a good thing.

She giggled again, the sound then becoming another groan. "What are we going to do?" she asked after a moment. "I ruined our wedding."

"That you did."

"We're not married."

"No, we're not."

"We can't _get_ married."

"What?" He cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Why not?"

" _Because_ ," she moaned, "I left you at the altar. Your family never really liked me before. Now they're really going to hate me. Oh god, what if your father _fires_ me?"

"He won't do that," Adrien assured. "If there's anything my father's good at, it's keeping things professional. You do good work and that's all that matters as far as your job is concerned."

"I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing in this case."

He shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. And it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of you. You're going to be my wife and that's all that matters."

"Am I?" she grinned.

"Uh, _yeah_ ," he said quite seriously. "After all this bullshit? Like I'm going to let you get away a third time."

"That sounds almost like a threat," she teased.

"It is."

The both laughed.

"But how?" she asked a few seconds later. "I don't think we can, in good conscience, ask everyone to come to a second wedding."

"No, that'd probably be a bad idea," he agreed. "We didn't want all those people there in the first place anyway."

"So, what, just do it again with only close family members?"

"Uh, well, we could…" He cringed. "But you'll have to wear a different dress…"

"Oh yeah…" Because after she'd detransformed, he'd literally ripped her wedding dress off, claws and white lace flying and everything. It'd destroyed all her hard work, true, but the moment had pretty much been worth it. "Or… we could just…"

"Just…?"

"We could… elope…"

"Elope?" His eyebrows shot up above his mischievous smirk. "My Lady, how scandalous."

"You're not exactly offering up a better solution," she said, frowning.

"No, I like it," he admitted, stroking her back again. "Seems like something Ladybug and Chat Noir would do."

She smiled. "But where would we go?"

"Hmm, I suppose we couldn't go too far." They were, after all, the guardians of Paris. "Spain, Italy, the UK."

"Oh, let's go to Venice," she said, scooting up until they were nose to nose. "I've always wanted to go."

"Venice it is." Leaning up, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible."

"Well, we'll have to wait a few hours longer."

"Why is that, Kitty?" But she could already see the devious look in his eyes.

"Because," he tightened his hold around her, "neither one of us is leaving this bed for at least that long." Without any strain at all, he flipped her over, Marinette laughing as he collapsed on top of her. As he smothered her in kisses and ran his fingers up her sides in a way that was anything but sensual and only ended with her giggling more as she kicked her legs up around him.

No, they weren't married, not yet, and their wedding night had certainly gotten off to a rocky start, but the early morning sun was shining in through the windows and, finally, it looked like there were clear skies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *VIOLENTLY SCREAMS ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU* Probs my favorite part, sorry not sorry. 
> 
> Seriously, I do like to hurt the cat son. Sorry cat son. But also still not. 
> 
> You can always tell that I don't know how to end something when I use weather symbolism, pfffft, lol. 
> 
> HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED! THANK YOU AND LOTS OF LOVE! 
> 
> Also, feel free to check out of my other ML fics if you haven't already *skips off to write more ML fanfiction*

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr - SKayLanphear 
> 
> And please leave reviews if you can! Thank you!
> 
> I NEED HELP!
> 
> Hey guys! I’m brainstorming another long fic—what I’m calling my Hiatus Fic (that’s not the title, lol. Doesn’t have one yet)—and I have a lot of it planned, but I need your help! I want to include all the good stuff that’s usually in my fics, plus a little more! And I’m no good at coming up with akuma ideas. So that’s where I need you guys! If you have any akuma ideas that you’d like to share, please message me on my tumblr at SKayLanphear. I can’t guarantee that they’ll appear, but I need help! You’re all so amazing, and I know from reading your reviews that you all come up with some really great ideas (I’ve even used some of them). So don’t be shy, even if you think your akuma is silly—those are some of the best ones! 
> 
> Please, please help! That way I can make this next fic the best one yet :D


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